


Do You See the Stars?

by LittleInkling64



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blue Sky AU, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleInkling64/pseuds/LittleInkling64
Summary: Dr. Michael gets the opportunity of a lifetime when he is transferred to Aperture's main laboratories for his robotics background.  But when his daughter Stella falls ill with only a short time to live, he is faced with a difficult choice: will he resign himself to her fate, or risk using untested Aperture technology if there's a chance to save Stella's life?
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting in my folder for a bit. Thought I'd clean it up a bit and finish it. Hope y'all enjoy.

“Wisconsin…Wisconsin…”

Michael glanced in the rear-view mirror and smiled. He could just barely see the top of her head from the front seat, but he knew the state guidebook was in her hands. They’d bought it a few days ago, as a small consolation in the frantic rush of packing.

The transfer had caught them by surprise. But there was no denying the amount of money they were offering just for him to come in. And with the sudden costs they had…well, there wasn’t much choice but to move.

“State animal…white-tailed deer…ooh! State flower is the Apple Blossom—hey! Do you think we could plant an apple tree in our backyard?”

“Sure, if you can help me plant it maybe.”

“And maybe a vegetable garden…” Stella was already off on another train of thought.

“We’ll be there soon.”

“And tomatoes, and potatoes.” Stella giggled.

* * *

“Well…here we are.”

The house was underwhelming. There were only two things of note: the door was covered in bright blue peeling paint, and the white picket fence was swathed in curling, dry honeysuckle vines. But it was paid for and only ten minutes from work.

Stella was enthralled.

“It’s the most beautiful house I’ve ever _seen_!” She squealed, stumbling from the car on stiff legs. She laughed aloud, still smiling even as the laughter became a wheezing, rasping cough.

Michael frowned and scooped her up.

“Alright Stella-Star. What say you and I get started, yeah? Make this place lovely?”


	2. Chapter Two

Stella wouldn’t have liked the labs. As her name might suggest, she was a creature of the open sky and the sprawling outdoors. Even if she never could enjoy those things nearly as much as she’d like. The thought made his chest ache. He should have scheduled it sooner—

“Right…Michael Wagner?” The engineer looked harried, with uncombed hair and slightly bloodshot eyes. He handed Michael a key card in a plastic slip with a metal clip. “Alright, this should get you clearance to the labs, the central…well yeah, I think that’s everything. 50/50 chance you’ll be able to access the cafeteria, but between you and me, the place is probably shut down by now.” His eyes wandered nervously.

“Haven’t exactly been down there in a while but…eh, doesn’t matter. I heard we’ve got a bagel catering thing in the works. My advice is to bring lunch from home till then.”

Michael nodded. The engineer nodded back, not quite meeting Michael’s gaze as he skittered away. Michael sat at his new cubicle. It was plain, but the walls were of a serviceable tack board material, and he had brought several pictures of Stella and himself together on various happy occasions. He found her smile rather brightened the dull atmosphere.

“Hey…” Michael turned at the sound and found himself face-to-face with a rather harried looking fellow with dark hair and slightly mismatched eyes. His name tag read “D. Rattman”.

“…you’re new to the project, right?” Dr. Rattman asked, the barest hint of edge to his voice.

“Yes, they contacted me about a robotics project just a few weeks ago and offered me a, ah, bonus if I’d transfer immediately. My daughter Stella and I moved here not long after. She,” he struggled to put it into the format of polite conversation, “has…special needs.”

Dr. Rattman’s face had been creased in a look of suspicion mixed with what might have been disgust. At the mention of Stella, his face lightened with an expression of clarity, then, something that might have been…pity?

“Ah. Yes, right. I see.” The man seemed to be muttering more to himself than to Michael, but he quickly looked up. “Apologies, sometimes I drift off. I suppose you’re going to be at work on the project then, yes?”

“Er, well, they neglected to tell me the name of the project, but—”

“Oh, you’ll be working on the project, if they hired you for your robotics experience.” Dr. Rattman chuckled, if a bit darkly. “There’s no other project going on that they’d pay to get you transferred so quickly for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far.


	3. Chapter Three

They were lying in the grass, on the tiny hillock in the backyard where some previous owner had dumped soil for some project, then abandoned it. At least, Michael was assuming that was how the hill came to be. Regardless of its original intended purpose, it was excellent for stargazing.

Stella had taken her medication some time ago without complaint. She had gotten used to the colorful spreadsheet schedule her father had made to keep track of them. Wednesday—two days from now—was circled three times in red ink, with dozens of stars and exclamation points scattered around it on the spreadsheet. They both had looked at it with anticipation for months.

“How was your day?” He asked.

Stella shrugged. “Mrs. Calloway’s okay. Not nice, but not bad.”

“Fair enough. She’s been alone for a bit, so she’s not as used to children anymore as she used to be. But I knew she’d take care of you.”

“I guess.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I can see Cancer up there, the crab one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep, right… _there_.”

“Very good. Anything else?”

“Leo…Hydra, oh! Is that Virgo up there?”

“You’ve got sharp eyes there, Stella-Star.”

More silence, but a happy silence. It shifted, turning hesitant.

“Are you ready, you think?”

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay, you know.”

“Okay.” Stella fidgeted, tearing at the grass near her sides. “It’s going to work, right?”

“Well…yeah, it’s going to work. It won’t do anything _bad_ , but the doctors are kinda just waiting to see _how_ much good it’ll do.”

“Well, any good is…good, right?”

The sudden truth of the statement struck him, with a distinct flavor of hilarity to it, and he laughed.

Stella, of course, was indignant. “What are you laughing about?”

“Nothing, Stella-Star. You’re just a funny girl.”

Stella pouted a little, but it was a weak attempt at displeasure. A smile cracked the frown, and soon the two of them were laughing together.


	4. Chapter Four

He was in the waiting room, naturally, when the news broke. They’d done their best, but there was only so much to be done…Stella’s condition was so rare…the treatments so untested…

It was all a blur as he clocked in the next day. He was barely aware of it all, as the words echoed through his head, _new treatments may become available, but for now, there’s nothing to be done. Nothing. To. Be. Done._ Each one was a hammer blow to his skull, inflaming the headache already roaring. Probably brought on by the good amount of weeping he’d done once Stella was in bed and couldn’t see.

“Dr. Michael, give me a hand with this, will you?”

Michael glanced up and saw one of his many colleagues holding a heavy metal sphere. He rose slowly and walked over. As the other man prompted, Michael carefully adjusted several inner components as the other man held some number of springs and hatches out of the way.

“Thanks. Having some trouble with this one. Supposed to be focused on _curiosity_ , of all things, if you can believe it.”

Michael was reminded, inexplicably, of Stella. Her curiosity was infectious, the kind that convinced him to take out several books on quantum physics one week and African insects the next. She was a bright child, and if only she didn’t—wasn’t…well, any school in the world would love to have her, with her eager curiosity and clever mind.

“What’s…what’s the problem?” Michael asked, a soft mumble that he hadn’t really meant, but the other man eagerly launched into a rant.

“We had a consciousness ready to map—a volunteer of course—but it seems the mapping wasn’t quite successful. Between you and me, the guy didn’t seem like the curious type much, only asked about his compensation. Which he got, obviously.”

“Mmm.” Michael responded, if barely.

“Now, they’re going to try for a consciousness transfer. Crazy, but can’t really see much of another option. Of course, we’ve got a people willing to do it. Got a couple of specific volunteers lined up actually.”

The word caught Michael’s attention. “A consciousness transfer?”

“Yeah. That’s erm…well, not sure if you knew, but that’s were the whole GLaDOS project originated. Obviously, that was back then, not nearly as advanced as now.”

“So…it would preserve a human consciousness? I’m assuming the physical body would be in stasis for the duration of the project?”

“Well, I mean, yeah.”

An idea was brewing in Michael’s brain. Stella had a year, if that. Would it be crueler to—no, he couldn’t possibly be even _thinking_ about it… But it would buy Stella more time. The treatments she needed didn’t exist, but if he could find a way to _pause the clock_ and give her the time she needed for the treatments to be _developed_ …

“Do they…er, do they need any more volunteers? For the other cores?”

“I think so, for some of them. Why?”

* * *

“It would be like going to sleep, sort of.” He’d just launched the idea into the wind, laying on his back in the grass with Stella.

“I dunno. How long would I be asleep?”

“Well…that’s just it, I’m not sure. It’d be at least until they can figure out a cure.”

“How long d’ya think that’ll take?”

“I…I don’t know.”

Stella resettled herself on the grass.

“I think maybe, if there’s nothing else, we should at least try, right?”

“It could go wrong though.”

“Yes, but not with you there.” Stella said confidently. She was still under the impression that her father was superhuman. That he could do anything as long as he kept his wits about him. He had no idea how to tell her that some things were beyond ordinary human power.

“You’re good at stuff like that. I trust you, daddy.”

Michael swallowed. He couldn’t fail now. Not with something like that laying heavy on his shoulders.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, I hope you're ready for angst.


	5. Chapter Five

The news came a few days after. It wasn’t good; _it can never be undone,_ were the exact words, if he remembered correctly. To be honest, it wouldn’t be surprising if he couldn’t remember. Everything was a haze.

They’d told him it might not work, that all of this was so experimental, so unfamiliar, so little tread…but he’d hoped again as he’d hoped before. He’d hoped against hope like some kind of madman.

Like some kind of lunatic.

He could feel Dr. Rattman’s stare on him from across the room, pitying and earnest. It was too much, smothering him with some attempt at comfort, suffocating him with feelings of pity that he didn’t want, couldn’t bear—

“Dr. Michael?”

He glanced up, his mind teetering on the edge, ready to fall into the great chasm of grief looming there, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t yet because Stella…but Stella was gone. And with her had disappeared any sense of purpose, any reason to remain. Any reason to continue.

Even after three months. He would have stayed away longer, but they had pointedly reminded him of his contract multiple times over the last few months. He might have appreciated such persistence to complete their big project if it hadn’t come at such a time as this.

“I understand this is a…difficult time for you, but this project urgently needs your attention.” The woman, the project manager, spoke with a gentle voice, but there was a crisp edge of efficiency underneath her platitudes. She needed him to be here, in the realm of the living and the working, but Michael couldn’t muster more than a small nod. Apparently, that was satisfactory, because the woman turned and began to address the whole room.

“Right. I understand we are tired, we are very stressed, and that this is a big day for everyone, mmm? But we are on the final stretch now, people. This is presentation day, so let’s get through our routine checks and finish strong, yes?”

A round of weak nods and murmured assents from the room. The woman nodded back, with a great deal more energy than the rest of them, and she quickly exited the dreary atmosphere to oversee some other taskforce. There would be dozens of them today, what with all the plans and festivities for “Bring Your D—

Michael choked back the thought, swallowing back the grief lumping in his throat. He’d been looking forward to bringing Stella and showing her everything there was to see. He just knew she would have loved all of the fancy equipment, and with the sterile nature of the labs, perhaps she would have been allowed her to enjoy herself in peace for once.

“Michael?”

Michael didn’t dare turn. He knew from the voice that Dr. Rattman was right there, but Michael couldn’t look the man in the eye. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—see the sympathy there.

“You know, there’s a chance that maybe—”

Michael cut him off. “Dr. Rattman, I appreciate the sentiment, but—”

_“All technicians, please report to the Central Chamber. The demonstration is about to begin.”_

Dr. Rattman flinched at the sound of the automated voice, his eyes shifting uneasily from side to side, but Michael didn’t notice, gathering his papers and stuffing them indiscriminately into his briefcase. He set the case down with a thump on his desk that made Dr. Rattman nearly jump, but Michael was beyond caring.

They made their way down the hallway together, Dr. R matching him stride for stride down the long, checkered-tile hall. The other man seemed to have caught onto Michael’s mood, and was silent during the long walk. Michael appreciated it more than the other man could possibly know, but he couldn’t muster the energy to say so. Everything was under a dim cloud in his mind, wet and cold.

They reached the chamber, and a blast of chilled air gently buffeted their lab coats. Michael quickly strode to the many computer banks set up around the room, though his mind moved with a damp lethargy.

“Halfway done with preliminary checks, sir.”

Even through the haze of grief, the unexpected title caught Michael off-guard.

“Sir?”

“Yes,” the engineer hesitated, then repeated, “sir. I was told you were the new manager of this project, since ah…” he trailed off.

He didn’t need to finish. Dr. Rattman filled the blank for him.

“Since the old one was _removed_?”

“Right, right.” The engineer seemed relieved to have the weight of the conversation off his shoulders, and he scurried back to another work station.

“ _Removed_.” Dr. R said right beside him, a distinctly bitter tone to the word, “Is that what we're calling it now?”

_“Ladies and Gentlemen!”_ A great big, booming voice sounded over the speakers, with a great deal more excitement than most of the technicians in the chamber. Well, perhaps not _more_ energy, but with a much greater sense of anticipation, as opposed to fear.

_“Welcome to the second annual Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, or, as we here like to call it, a ‘B-Y-D—bid’ for the next generation of scientists’ success!”_

Dr. R muttered something about how “no one has ever said that”, but the man on the speaker carried on regardless.

_“While I have your attention, may I direct your eyes and ears to the main observation window, where a very special demonstration is just about to commence.”_

Michael glanced up and just as quickly looked away. He couldn’t let his eyes linger on the many young faces that peaked through the shatter-proof glass and looked down upon all of them in the chamber.

“Are we ready?”

“Yep!” Another engineer, balding and far too eager, ticked off the last three boxes on clipboard. “All ready to go, sir.”

“Alright,” Michael rubbed the bridge between his eyes, trying to rub away the pervasive ache that seemed to have settled there. “Turn ‘er on.”

Dr. Rattman suddenly became so urgently nervous that even Michael noticed. The other man met his eyes, and Michael saw there a fear beyond anything he had ever known before.

“I’m-I-I’m going to head to the restroom really quick.”

“Ok. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

But Dr. Rattman didn’t leave.

“Maybe…maybe you should come with me.”

“Why?”

“Oh…you know, in case we run into children, you could—oh.” Dr. R began weakly, abruptly coming to a stop as he caught the expression on Michael’s face. Michael quickly looked to the ceiling, tilting his head up to keep the tears from falling as he blinked rapidly.

“You know what? Maybe I will come with you. I could use a…a break.”

Dr. Rattman visibly relaxed.

Michael coughed, clearing his throat and quickly patted the balding engineer on the shoulder.

“I’m leaving you charge, Mr. Gupta.”

“Yes, sir!” Mr. Gupta eagerly nodded, taking over as Michael exited the chamber.

* * *

“I’m so sorry, Dr. Michael, I didn’t think…I didn’t mean—”

“It’s…it’s fine, Dr. Rattman.” Michael splashed water on his face, in a vain attempt to soothe the blotchy skin, red from weeping. In any other circumstance, he would have felt an intense pressure to compose himself, to pull himself together, but over the last few months, Dr. R had displayed a remarkable sense of tact. He seemed to consider it his duty to provide a friendly face for the duration of Michael’s time at the labs.

“Alright,” Michael said to himself at last, “alright.” He repeated the word, trying to convince himself that truly, honestly, everything would be, somehow, some way—

But it was time to get back to work. Dr. R seemed to understand, but the man was reluctant to leave the restroom. Perhaps he had problems of his own, just beneath the surface and, like Michael, feared they were too close to the skin to risk exposure without some bolstering of emotions.

They exited the restroom to mass panic.

“What’s happening?”

A scant stream of people, exhibiting the kind of speed and desperation generally reserved for being chased by wolves, fled past, choking and coughing as they went. Beyond them, the door to the central chamber was sealed shut, but loud and desperate banging noises sounded from beyond it, as if it had only recently closed.

Michael moved to open the door, but the project manager from before—her glasses askew and her hair wild—blocked the control panel, coughing and hacking.

“Don’t-don’t open that door!”

“Why? What’s happening?”

But the project manager had slid to the floor, still coughing, and eventually she shuddered once before going still. Perfectly, absolutely still.

_What was going on?_ The thought struck Michael with a sudden horror. No longer barred, Michael began typing his access code.

“Are you crazy?” Dr. R grabbed his shoulder and jerked him back, turning his head to swear into the sleeve of his lab coat as the door hissed open.

A great cloud of low-lying, hideously green gas slunk through the crack, creeping across the floor. Beyond the door, the sterile glow of the fluorescent lights, filtered green through the clouds, found the grotesque shapes of collapsed scientists and technicians alike on the floor. Glassy, lifeless eyes gleamed and mouths gaped in horror, faces twisted in stiff expressions of pain.

“Run!” Dr. R was swearing like a sailor in between yells, “Run!”

But running was no good. Michael coughed, flapping a labcoat sleeve in front of his mouth. It came away red.

“Oh G—Dr. Michael, you’ve got to, got to—” Dr. Rattman was desperate, running a hand through his dark hair.

But Michael couldn’t seem to care. There was a strange calm over him, as if it really just wasn’t worth worrying about…because…

“Come on, Michael, _please_. You’re the only one who’s sane down here. You can’t just…” Dr. Rattman pleaded with him.

Michael couldn’t understand why he was so upset, why he couldn’t just enjoy the peace and quiet for the moment… But he raised a weak hand.

“It’s alright, I’ll be fine. Don’t you see? I’m going to see Stella…”

Dr. Rattman paused for a moment, looking as if he might actually cry.

“Good…goodbye, Dr. Michael. Say…say hello to Stella for me.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

Heat crawled up through every nerve ending. He was burning up with pain, every inch of him, but it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter because Stella was—

_It could go wrong though._

_“Yes, but not with you there. I think maybe, if there’s nothing else, we should at least try, right?”_

_You’re right…I’m sure it’ll be fine._

_“You’re good at stuff like that. I trust you daddy.”_

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

_I trust you._

The words rang in his head. His lungs _burned_. He couldn’t breathe, and the ceiling suddenly broke into a thousand shining fragments that glowed. Beyond them, the world was awash with inky black so deep that the white shining spots burned a cold, glittering light. He gasped, breathless at the beauty of it. Something warm was running down his cheeks, but the warm feeling was _so_ _far away_ …

“Do you see this, Stella?” He rasped, the pain in his throat too dull to matter, because the stars, the _stars_ …

A great galaxy was spread before him, swallowing him up, consuming him in its vastness. He swore he could see Stella’s bright smile, and she smiled down on him.

“Stella,” Michael wept, his voice the softest rasp, “Stella…do you see the stars?”

_Stars._

_Stars._

_Stars._

As the stars faded, he had a smile on his face.


	6. Chapter Six

She was only vaguely aware of the chattery voice just outside of her periphery. Frankly, it didn’t much matter. She was happy as a clam, out here, with her stars. She wanted to tell him, that other eyeball with the chattery voice, that she’d always wanted to be astronaut. That she’d never have had a chance to be up here, except for now. Instead, what came out was some variant of the word “space”.

“Space, spacespacespace, gotta see it all, space!” She tried to make him understand how happy it made her.

Funny enough, she couldn’t quite remember why they were out here. Didn’t much matter to her. She could hardly remember her own name, let alone why they were out amongst the stars in the great vacuum of space. Speaking of, what was her name again?

Didn’t really matter anyways. There was space to look at, so much of it. If only…well, if only she didn’t feel this strange sort of… _black hole_ inside her. As if, maybe, once upon a time, she had things _other_ than space to make her happy. But that seemed silly, since she’d always loved space and only space…

“Space!” She said again, trying to shoo away her vague feelings of discontent.

“Yeah! Space! We get it mate! It’s been what, four years now? There’s a great big bloody bit of space out here, alright!”

She felt a little hurt, but after a moment, she forgot why she was hurt. After all, she had a friend to enjoy space with. Why would anyone not want that?

But there was something coming. Something huge. Perhaps it was a meteor? Or maybe it was a comet! All that mattered was that it was more space. Space coming her way. Coming her way fast, so fast that—

“Kevin, no!”

Everything was light. It was so, so bright, just like the stars, no, wait, that wasn’t quite right. Stars were nice, but this was too bright for her liking. It hurt her eyes.

Then the brightness dimmed, gently. She glanced up and saw a figure, dimly shadowed in the light. The figure approached, growing closer.

“Stella?” The figure asked. The name sounded…familiar. “Stella!”

The figure ran, sprinting without the slightest hesitation, and suddenly she was scooped up in a pair of arms.

“…Dad?”

“Stella, my sweet Stella-Star.” The figure wept.

* * *

Far below the earth, in the depths of a lab so deep it might as well have been Hell itself, a faint beep, long and unabating, sounded. It echoed against the steel walls, bouncing and repeating.

If a bystander had been nearby, they might have seen a long row of stasis tanks, not unlike long fishbowls against the walls. Though many of the occupants were older men and women with greying temples and wrinkled brows, one occupant in particular was younger than most.

Her hair was a mousy brown, wispy and uninteresting, her face soft with the calm of sleep. It was her tank that beeped, harrying anyone within earshot with a long, unending, significant beep. The panel noted a flatline, but the beep faded, as no technician or engineer came to check the panel.

She was smiling.


End file.
